


Love Like You

by SquaryQ



Series: OtaYuri [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Based on a song, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Inspired by Steven Universe, Love like You, M/M, Relationship Development, Short snippets, Songfic, stages of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquaryQ/pseuds/SquaryQ
Summary: If I could begin to beHalf of what you think of me,I could do about anything,I could even learn how to love





	Love Like You

**Author's Note:**

> I basically found this on my laptop. It's from MONTHS ago! But looks like I never posted it! So ENJOY!

 

“Why does the country have to deem me a fairy? I’m a tiger, shitheads!” Yuri Plisetsky declares as he scrolls through another news article about himself. Vain as it may have seemed to those who didn’t know him, his teammates and family never questioned his excessive scrolling through a plethora of sources. Each and every one would repeat the same pieces of information; that the young Russian prodigy was Russia’s new favourite to qualify and retain the country’s status as ice champions before one Viktor Nikiforov returned to the ice.

The green eyed teenager blows a strand of white blond hair out of his face. Since he was fifteen and finally made it into the Senior Division of skating, he had been growing his hair so he could style it in intricate manners for competitions – much to Lilia’s delight. He had been beaten to an achy shaky state over the last few years after being dragged from pillar to post by puberty. But it was over… Not that the passing of puberty was what commanded his attention as he scrolled through images on the internet.

In a way, the existence of Yuri’s Angels, his obsessive fanbase, allowed him access to a plethora of images of himself. Many of the fangirls had spent years marvelling at the tones, hues and shades trapped within his emerald iris. He wanted to see his eyes. His eyes were one of the only things that set him apart from the other Russian skaters. Most of them seemed to want to hypnotise their audience by captivating them in a spell of eye contact.

Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t like that.

Which is why he was adamant to look at his own eyes and how they were captured in the lens of a camera. For a friend of his, his first friend, had once told him that he had “the eyes of a soldier” and that had stuck with him.

But he could never see it.

But he wanted to. He yearned to be able to see what Otabek saw in his eyes, channel that ferocity and use it.

Yuri sighs as he finishes reading the article and marvelling at the photography. He shakes his head.

_If I could begin to be_

_Half of what you think of me,_

_I could do about anything,_

_I could even learn how to love._

Otabek grins at the hazy lagging image of his Russian friend on his screen. The blond dons a baggy grey t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. His cat in his lap. It became a habit to comment on how Yuri could look like a cliché James Bond villain with the right lighting and makeup. Otabek had once suggested that the best way to do it would be to dress Yuri like Georgi Popovich for maximum effect.

“Yuri, you really must get a better laptop, I can hardly see you in the screen!” Otabek presses before taking a sip of hot chocolate.

Yuri yawns, covering his hand with his mouth. Otabek catches the yawn and mirrors the action, starting a chain reaction until both begin to laugh.

“So, Otabek, Guang-Hong Ji said something about going to Los Angeles to visit Leo on Instagram this morning.”

“I’m surprised those two get any skating done, Leo is either in China with Guang-Hong or visiting his extended family. How he dominates young American competitive skating is beyond me.”

“And then there’s Guang-Hong Ji! He’s either in L.A with Leo or he’s anywhere across Eastern Asia visiting friends. He’s friends with everyone, even that grouchy Korean, Seung-Gil.”

“Oh come on, Yura, Seung-Gil isn’t always a grouch! You saw how fired up he gets when he skates against JJ.”

Yuri rolls his eyes, taking his hair out of the low ponytail it is in before pulling it into a tight bun, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that guy smile.”

“Some may say the same about you, Yura.”

“Touché.”

“And I think you’ll find when Seung-Gil and Phichit went to Disneyland he was captured on film and on Phichit’s Instagram with a childish grin on his face.”

Yuri shrugs, accepting defeat. There was only one person who could make absolutely anybody in the skating world comfortable and at ease and that was the Thai skater, Phichit.

A comfortable silence settles between the pair before Otabek grins and pushes his own hair back off his face. Yuri tilts his head.

“Beka? Is something wrong?”

“I was just wondering why you brought Guang-Hong up? You two didn’t seem to be that close when _you_ hung out.”

“That was a promotional thing. Yakov thought I should establish friendly relations with non-Russian skaters. They saw a prime opportunity with the up and coming shitstorm that is Eastern Asia’s figure skaters,” Yuri mutters.

“You can’t deny that they’re good though,” Otabek shrugs, “So why did you mention him?”

Yuri’s cheeks are stained with pink as he looks away from Otabek, pouting. The oldest of the pair chuckles softly at the display.

“I was wondering when we would next be seeing each other.”

Otabek grins wickedly, tapping the side of his nose and winking.

“Fuck you Beka.”

“Fuck you too, Yura. Night.”

“Night.”

And with that Otabek turns off his laptop, closes it and sets it on his bedside table. His eyes flicker to an envelope pinned to his cork noticeboard with a pushpin. Plane tickets to Russia. He grins before wriggling into a comfortable position in which to sleep.

_When I see the way you act,_

_Wondering when I'm coming back,_

_I could do about anything,_

_I could even learn how to love like you._

“Yuuri!” a sing-song voice flutters through the ice rink. Viktor Nikiforov, coach and competitor glides across the ice toward his fiancé. Viktor, having just been annihilated by Yakov’s merciless training has been assaulted by a new surge of energy upon seeing his partner.

A blushing Yuuri waves at his coach as he approaches.

“Okay, so what do you want to start with? Free skate? Short program? Your gala piece? Or…mine?”

Otabek’s jaw drops at the sultry glances being exchanged by the two men on the ice. Yuuri’s awkward disposition dissipating into nothing as he meets Viktor’s eyes.

“Let’s start with the gala pieces,” determined grins stretch upon both men’s faces.

On the side of the rink, Otabek, a guest skater at Yakov’s studio, watches in awe, jaw slack as he marvels at the pair.

Viktor produces a coin from his trouser pocket and flips it and points at himself, a wicked grin crossing his face. Yuuri returns the gesture and skates away, both men putting on headphones. Viktor glides off the ice in order to re-enter as if he had just been called for the gala.

The pacing in the movements resembles that of Yuuri’s free program from the several seasons ago. Almost like it had been recomposed. Viktor skates in circles gesturing in wonderment, face of hopelessness.

Otabek purses his lips as Yuri Plisetsky skates to join him and watch.

“The music speeds up now, a bunch of string instruments filter in from here,” Yuri rolls his eyes.

Viktor bursts into a frenzy of movements, imitating several of the moves he had done with Yuuri at the banquet when they drunkenly danced together. He reaches out toward where Yakov is stood outside of the ice. His back is turned as he speaks to Lilia but the gesture seems to be an indicator.

Yuuri appears to know his cues as he glides past Viktor and takes his hand.

Otabek’s jaw drops, being sent back to the awe he felt when he saw their first pair skate at the gala in Barcelona.

“You can feel the warmth from them from here.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at his friend’s observation, “You stop staring after a while. They practice these routines twice a week so there’s no way they can flub the jumps. “

Otabek grins, eyes only flickering to Yuri for a moment before they return to the magnetic duet opposite them. A quiet wistful sigh escapes his lips as he watches.

 

_Love, like you..._

 

“Yura, I’ve never saw you as a brat. JJ must be trying to rile you up!” Otabek presses via Skype, his words stressed.

“Beka, you have too much faith in me,” Yuri sighs sadly, shaking his head and producing his smartphone from his leopard-print jacket and opens the chrome app.

Yuri sighs again, typing a phrase into a Google Image Search: Yuuri vs Yuri Hasetsu Ice Castle

The first image to appear on the screen of Yuri’s phone is an image of Katsuki Yuri midway through his Eros routine. The second captures an exhausted Yuri Plisetsky post-Agape routine. He smiles sadly as the third image was the one which he was searching for.

He sighs and takes a screenshot and sends it to Otabek via Instagram’s message system to Otabek.

The photo in question was taken by a journalist who claimed the entire debacle was a publicity stunt to gain some attention for Hasetsu. The image depicted a furious Yuri Plisetsky assaulting Yuuri Katsuki in an unstoppable rage.

Otabek takes a sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t say much for a moment.

Yuri hangs his head.            

“Yura… did you really?”

No reply.

“This was dated to prior to your senior debut. You were fifteen back then?” Otabek reasons, pursing his lips.

“Yeah…I don’t really know what made me do it. I guess I felt like I had a right to attack Katsudon. He took Viktor from where he promised to be. On a whim after one fucked up drunken dance or ten. He just ups and leaves. I was furious and irrational and blah. I don’t know…”

_I always thought I might be bad,_

_Now I'm sure that it's true_

_'cause I think you're so good_

_And I'm nothing like you._

 

Otabek presses the ‘upload’ button as soon as Yuri leaves the public area of the airport. He sighs sadly as the selfie imports to Instagram. A photograph depicting a grinning Yuri Plisetsky with Otabek smirking beside him. The pair wearing silver chains with a charm resting on them. The charms, when joined together form the ‘Batman’ logo.

Yuri wears a faux leather jacket with a leopard-print detailing on the inside, an ashy grey t-shirt with a black tiger design upon it in the shot. His long hair piled into a messy bun. Otabek wears a black turtleneck jumper, a grey jacket and a scarf around his neck.

The caption reads _‘I hate it when you have to go, Yura #friend #bestfriend #longdistancefriendship #airport #airportselfie #farewellselfie #thisisntgoodbyeitsseeyousoon’._

He tags Yuri in his photo and waits for his phone to be assaulted by a social media attack. The figure skating community was pretty small across the world but all skaters Otabek had known in his young skating life had active accounts and followers.

Merely moments after uploading the image, Otabek receives a notification from ‘OFFICIALguang_hong_ji’ asking him to join him and Leo in Los Angeles during the break in their schedules.

‘Leo.De.La.Iglasia’ replied after mere moments joining the enthusiastic exclamations from Guang-Hong Ji.

His attention is drawn to the plane as the passengers board. Otabek smiles sadly, sending Yuri a text, informing him of the invitation which they had just received.

It isn’t long until the Russian Tiger leaves the country. Otabek sighs and turns away.

_Look at you go,_

_I just adore you,_

_I wish that I knew_

_What makes you think I'm so special_

 

Otabek had been visiting again.

Yakov’s rink is playing host to an international young skater’s event. “Young” being used loosely enough to justify many of the ‘old guard’ from 2016’s Grand Prix Skating Season, Viktor and Yuuri sit with Christophe Giacometti and a few others who don’t feel up to skating.

The slightly younger skaters, Leo, Guang-Hong, Minami Kenjiro of Japan, a new rising star, and the generally unlikeable Jean Jacques Leroy had taken to the ice to mess around to random pop music being played from Phichit’s speakers. The Thai skater eager to provide the background noise as he spoke to some of the Europien skaters. Seung-Gil, noticeably absent.

Otabek had been practicing a step sequence that his nimble and dainty coach, Ria, had taught him a few weeks ago. He was yet to perfect it and said now was as good a chance as ever to give it a shot. He shouldn’t have tried but every time that Yuri called over to him and encouraged him, saying he would grasp it soon made him adamant to keep going.

Otabek hisses through gritted teeth as he balls a fist. Shooting searing pains jolting through his foot.

“Beka!” Yuri gasps, falling out of a turn upon seeing his best friend fall.

The pain continues to tear through Otabek’s foot, making choked gasps of pain escape his lips.

Yuri races across the ice to his friend’s side, the ice being torn apart under his blades.

“Beka! What’s the matter?” Yuri asks, kneeling at his friend’s side, drawing the other skaters’ attention to what had happened.

Otabek hisses, “Shit…”

“Oi! Assholes! Someone gonna help me get Otabek up?” Yuri hollers at the others on the ice.

Casting a glance over those who stand there, it is Jean Jacques Leroy who is the first to glide toward his injured fellow competitor, with Mila rushing off the ice, presumably to the medical room.

Slowly but surely JJ had been becoming bearable and Yuri, therefore, allowed the older and stronger Canadian to assist him. Otabek has reverted to speaking in his mother tongue, hard angry sounds coming from his lips as Yuri and JJ lift him from the ground and support him off the ice.

Once sat upon a bench, Viktor and Yuuri ascend upon Otabek, practically dismantling the skates on his feet to get a closer look at the injury at hand.

Already red and angry, a swollen right foot aggravates the Kazakh skater. He continues to mutter what Yuri could only assume were profanities in his first language.

Viktor’s brows furrow as he stares at the foot.

“I think he’s aggravated a healing injury… I’ve never seen a foot so sore after a few moments. Yuuri?” Viktor says, glancing at his fiancé for clarification. The Japanese man nods solemnly.

“Otabek, have you been injured recently?” Viktor asks.

“He hasn’t.” Yuri presses, “If he had, he would have said something, right Beka?”

Otabek’s knuckles are white. He looks away from Yuri Plisetsky and straight at Viktor, “My new coach said it was okay to keep practicing on it…”

“Then they’ve made a clear misjudgement on your part. How new is new.”

“She’s been my coach for about two months.”

“That’s most definitely not long enough to understand how you are. Someone’s going to have to take you to the hospital. Yuri, do you want to take him?”

“I didn’t drive. Beka took us here…”

“Great. Yakov said you couldn’t get a motorcycle licence, didn’t he?” Yuri nods in reply to Viktor’s question, almost certain he hadn’t raged to either him or his fiancé about the injustice of the matter. But now is certainly not the time to ask how he knew.

“Yuri!” Mila calls from the other side of the ice, cutting across the middle with bandages, an icepack and some gum. She hands the blond a set of car keys, “The red Mini. Touch my stuff and I break your pretty little face, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” Yuri rolls his eyes. He hesitates, glancing back at the woman with dyed red hair, “Thank you.”

“It’s fine. Now let’s get Otabek in the car,” Mila says, a sad smile on her face.

Once he is sat in the back of Mila’s Mini, Otabek puts a stick of gum into his mouth to grind his teeth into.

“Beka? Why did you practice the step sequence if you were injured you IDIOT!”

“I wanted to get gold Yura…now that the world’s skaters are all poised and perfect I needed to step up my game. I’m sorry, Yura. I let you down. Next season I’ll win.”

“Do you really think I care if you win or not? Don’t be stupid!” Yuri’s voice cracks. Otabek winces and buries his face in his hands. His body is shaking as his breath hitches.

Yuri stiffens at the muffled noises coming from the back of the car, “Beka please don’t cry. I’m proud of you no matter where you place.”

 

_If I could begin to do_

_Something that does right by you,_

_I would do about anything,_

_I would even learn how to love._

 

*Yurio being dumbstruck when Otabek finally asks him out when they’re in London for the GPF*

“Yura I. No! That won’t do it… Yuri! Dammit! Argh!” Otabek groans in exasperation. It had been a year since his injury and he had missed the last season in order to make sure it was completely healed. He figured with so much hype coming from his return to competitive skating he wouldn’t have an issue doing anything else for the rest of the year. But he had been wrong.

Now this, finding the right way to articulate himself was hard. _Why_ was this so hard?

Since Otabek Altin had befriended Yuri Plisetsky at the end of 2016, the oldest of the pair had most certainly become better at speaking. He was able to manipulate English with much more control than before and was more comfortable doing so. He had even become somewhat confident in his ability to do so.

Talkative? Not by a long-shot. What made the dynamic between Otabek and Yuri so ideal for both is that they had an active or passive opposite to compliment most of their traits. Yuri being the chattiest of the pair when compared to Otabek who tended to be a better listener and pillar for emotional support.

Otabek makes a fist. Tonight was the eve of the Grand Prix and Ria had forbidden him to do any extra practice. He was to have fun and not do anything too strenuous or eat anything too temperamental. Which was incredibly annoying as he wouldn’t have much longer in London after the final.

His phone buzzes, taking him out of his daze. A text from Yuri.

‘Shall we head to China Town? Chinese food won’t kill us tomorrow! It’s not like it’s an Indian’

Otabek smiles slightly sending a hasty reply of ‘Sure, I’ll meet you in the lobby in 15 minutes’, giving him enough time to use some mouthwash, hairspray and aftershave before grabbing his coat, keys, wallet and phone and heading out of the hotel room so he could meet the punctual Russian.

The blond waits for him as he descends from the staircase. Meeting his eyes, Otabek smirks, turns around and begins to go back upstairs, causing Yuri to stomp his foot and sulk. Otabek scoffs before turning back to face Yuri and rushing down the stairs.

Yuri pouts at him, acting hurt and angry but the façade melts away once Otabek smiles at him, “Shall we go?”

_When I see the way you look._

_Shaken by how long it took,_

_I could do about anything,_

_I could even learn how to love like you._

 

They meet the couple that invited them to this event at a Starbucks about a mile out from the colourful parade. Yuri and Otabek had never been to these events and hadn’t a clue what to wear to it. They sigh in relief when they see their friends, both dressed in blacks and greys, holding an extra drink in their hands.

“Hey!” Leo calls, “We got you a drink. You haven’t visited ‘Murica if you haven’t had an overpriced coffee.

The sea of colour is aweing. Yuri stands, astounded at the mix of combinations that crossed the people. Many wore rainbows but there were great displays of other sexualities in the mix. He turned his head and faced the three men with him.

An emotional Guang-Hong glanced back at Yuri, eyes brimming with tears as he marvelled at the flags, fingers entwined with Leo’s. In the process of travelling to the event, they had begun to get ready, Leo wearing a sequin waistcoat from several seasons ago, pink purple and blue shimmers jumping from his body.

Guang-Hong had taken a page out of Seung-Gil Lee’s book and worn loud rainbow frilled flared sleeves he could attach and detach via Velcro. He had had Leo fasten them for him so they were “straighter than him”.

Otabek was forced into wearing a headband with a glittery rainbow suspended above it with springs. Yuri had opted into taking a “gift” from Leo. Said “gift” was a customised flag that he said he was going to give to Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki on his wedding day. However thought it would be relevant at the parade. It was the Russian flag with a rainbow spraypainted across it on one side and ‘FUCK YOUR LEGISLATION & FUCK YOUR HETERONOMALITY! LOVE IS LOVE!’ written on the back in what looked to be sharpie.

Yuri had been astounded when Leo gave him it but waved it in the air without a care in the world. And whenever someone asked, he only explained by replying with sarcasm in Russian. It usually allowed people to get the picture.

Yuri and Otabek stood together, fingers lacing together as they tried to watch Guang-Hong and Leo without seeming creepy.

Otabek sighs as he watches their carefree PDA. He sighs again as Yuri shudders at their display.

 

_Love like you..._

 

Music makes the ground vibrate. Even when up a flight of stairs, the walls were pounding from the speakers.

“Jesus fuck. I didn’t think anything could stop the PDA!” Yuri declares as he trudges up the stairs toward his hotel room.

“Oh God I know, Yura.” Otabek replies.

“Thank GOD we got out of there in time. I didn’t want to see Christophe take off his boxers.”

Otabek shudders in response to Yuri’s remark. He does the same.

Christophe Giacometti had most definetly instigated the highlight of the reception. Drunken pole dancing round two. Yuuri Nikiforov-Katsuki vs Christophe Giacometti vs Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki vs anybody else who was game.

Yuri, despite desperately wanting to showcase his upperbody strength, did not want to compete in a sex competition against three professional skaters that have had sex as part of their appeal for years.

Otabek opened the door to Yuri’s room and the duo collapsed onto the bed, both feeling heavy from the expensive liquor from the wedding reception downstairs.

Viktor, being the lavish money maker he was, was eager to rent out the entire hotel space for the extravaganza that was their international wedding party. They had invited practically everyone they knew to this event. It would later be followed by a close celebration of their union in Barcelona with only their immediate friends and family. Such as Yuuko, Nishigori, the Kastuki’s, Minako-Sensei and Phichit coming from Yuuri’s side. And on Viktor’s, in the stead of his blood family, Yakov, Chris, Yuri …again, Otabek, and a few other close friends from inside and outside of the skating world.

Otabek opens his snapchat and begins to nudge Yuri with his arm. Phichit, as usual, is livestreaming the contest via his personal snapchat, ‘YaBoiThaiChuuroP’. Otabek’s eyes are wide as he watches the naked men dance.

“Yura! Yura! Look who else is competing!”

Yuri leans closer to Otabek to see a lingerie clad Sara Crispino suspended from a pole, high heeled shoes still strapped to her feet. He snorts before hiccuping.

“I bet Michelle is having a field day at the moment.” Yuri rolls his eyes.

Otabek nods.

They sit watching social media for a while, sipping from the alcohol in the minibar just so they can taste something familiar that isn’t fancy foreign booze. Sometimes, cliché as it may be, Yuri just wanted to drink vodka. Straight.

As the night draws to an end and the romantic songs lull up to their room, Otabek begins to undress, staring at Yuri with a sultry expression. Yuri grins wolfishly and loosens his own tie.

The moonlight leaves Yuri Plisetsky illuminated as Otabek dims the lights and caresses his cheek.

“Fuck PDA,” Yuri mutters between breaths as he kisses Otabek’s neck.

“Fuck me,” Otabek replies lowly.

“With pleasure.”

 

_Love me like you._


End file.
